


It's Got Me Sick

by GetFighted



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Misc Cameos - Freeform, Murder Mystery, Sexual Content, So theres murder obv, Weapons, im sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-01-15 09:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12318609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GetFighted/pseuds/GetFighted
Summary: Thirteen young men, scattered and attached by the thinnest of threads, find themselves caught up in a web of sex, lies, and murder.Who's the mystery killer, and what does he want?(MURDER MYSTERY)





	1. Under the Table

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> A few things before we begin:
> 
> 1\. I love Seventeen. 
> 
> 2\. I may kill your bias. I'm so sorry.
> 
> 3\. Not everyone knows everyone! Next chapter I will provide you with a handy little chart to let you know how our boys intertwine. 
> 
> 4\. I am keeping this as accurate as I can, minus minor details like hair colour. But Ive used a calendar to get exact dates and days of the week, etc. I have countless notes planning this all out. If I've screwed up a date or you see an inconsistency in the timeline, please let me know! 
> 
> 5\. In the next chapters, there will be a lot of jumping between present time and flashbacks. I will give dates for everything as I've done at the beginning of this chapter. Hopefully it helps. :) 
> 
> 6\. Enjoy! This is my favorite piece of work right now.

**MONDAY FEBRUARY 15, 2016**

 

His legs tightened around Wonwoo’s waist, his body trembling with the crashing waves of pleasure as the younger thrust him through his orgasm. A heavy moan fell from his lips, cut short by the hungry kiss unleashed on him. Wonwoo’s pace picked up, desperate and erratic and Jisoo held his breath in anticipation, watching the younger with great focus as to not miss the way his face scrunched as he groaned and stilled and spilled inside of him. 

The room was quiet save for their own uneven breathing as the air around them settled back into reality. Jisoo sighed contentedly as Wonwoo slid out of him and flopped down onto the sheets.

“Never move out,” mumbled Wonwoo as he turned to face Jisoo, a small but significant smile playing on his lips that Jisoo returned with ease.

Jisoo had moved in almost eight months ago. He had responded to an ad in the paper, and within days he was rooming with two strangers who refused to let him live in peace. At first it was a nightmare for Jisoo. The glances, the exchanged looks between Wonwoo and Mingyu, the winks, the vague sexual suggestions, and the way they looked at him like dinner laid out to feast upon. Jisoo felt like prey in a den of predators.

But they were smooth, and convincing, and now there he laid eight months later, dragging a finger through the chilled cum on his chest and grimacing, while Wonwoo chuckled lowly beside him. It was the most comfortable and natural thing to be next to him, or next to Mingyu, or - on his favorite nights - wedged between the two of them.

He’d never dream of moving out. Not with sex that satisfying and two men that positively delicious at his fingertips.

“Mingyu said the same thing a few days back, but he threatened to tie me to the bed,” Jisoo reminisces fondly.

“Kinky.”

“It was.”

The pair quietly exchanged knowing looks before erupting into what could only be described as giggles.

“Leave it to you to take Mingyu’s threats with such enthusiasm,” chuckled Wonwoo as he sat upright in bed, grabbing his phone from the bedside dresser. “Shit, we gotta go. He’s going to be pissed if we’re late.”

“We’re always late,” Jisoo drawled, but stretching his limbs nonetheless as he stood from the warm comfort of the mattress.

“Yeah, and he’s always pissed.”

Wonwoo tossed Jisoo a clean towel before rummaging their worn and tattered wardrobe for something semi-casual. Nothing too fancy, but not too drabby either. Tonight was important to Mingyu, and Wonwoo wanted to look the part.

They weren’t together, not officially anyways. The two of them had grown up together, spent the majority of their lives together exploring new things and diving headfirst into new adventures.

Mingyu was Wonwoo’s first everything. First friend, first kiss, first date, first blowjob, first fist fight,  _ everything _ . He liked to think he was those things for Mingyu as well, but despite all the years Wonwoo knew him, Mingyu liked to keep certain things to himself. And that was perfectly okay.

Adding Jisoo into the mix was the best idea they’d ever had. It started as a joke, Mingyu fanning himself as soon as Jisoo had left the viewing. “We need him to move in. That ass.  _ That ass. _ I say he moves in and we spend the rest of our days worshipping  _ that ass _ .”

Mingyu didn’t always have a way with spoken words (not like his written words), but he did have a deep rooted talent for scheming. And it always worked out, thank heavens for them. Because Wonwoo had to agree, Jisoo did look amazing from behind.

“Do you think this looks like something a person who cares about local award ceremonies would wear to a local award ceremony?” Jisoo spun half-heartedly in his too-tight black jeans and white button-up top, which was tucked neatly into his waistband.

Wonwoo glanced him up and down, humming and hawing, but truth be told, he was just buying time to admire the man who could be wearing a literal potato sack and still be crowned best dressed.

“You are so transparent,” Jisoo laughed as he pushed past Wonwoo with a playful shove, looking over his shoulder with the slyest of winks on his way out of the room.

 

 

The drive was a bit too long for Jisoo’s liking. Their rent was cheap, but the obvious downfall was how far the busy part of the city was. It seemed that every event that mattered took the better part of an hour to reach, even with Jisoo’s acquired traffic weaving abilities. But he supposed if that was his only real complaint, he couldn’t be too upset.

Wonwoo was Jisoo’s favorite passenger by a long shot. Not only was he relatively quiet and didn’t make Jisoo engage in small talk that made the drive seem that much longer, he was also the world's best in-car DJ. Jisoo never knew what or who he was playing, but it always had him tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and requesting just a little more volume.

Which is exactly what he was doing when Wonwoo suddenly sat up straight in his seat and peered through the window at an alarming pace. Jisoo made a quick glance and caught the unmistakable colors of police lights before turning back to the road.

“What is it?” Jisoo asked as he slowed to a stop at a red light.

“Looks like an accident maybe?” Wonwoo said thoughtfully. “Or no, maybe not. I don’t see any cars.”

“Somebody probably got stabbed. This area is always crawling with crazies. I hate coming here. Jeonghan lives nearby and I keep telling him to move.”

Wonwoo nodded, still lost in thought as traffic began to move again, and they left the area, pulling up to their destination only a few minutes later.  
  
Jisoo could barely contain his shock when they entered the hall. It wasn’t very big, but it had been beautifully decorated and he was impressed. It looked expensive, a word he didn’t really associate with the event before he had shown up. He glanced at Wonwoo who appeared to share his sentiments, if the look on his face was anything to go by. 

“When he said he might win an award, I was thinking a coupon booklet for Wal-Mart, but damn, he might actually get something shiny by the looks of this place,” Jisoo commented in awe as they weaved between round tables draped in black silk and adorned with silver centerpieces, some much nicer than others.

He might have even stopped to admire a couple, and maybe even made plans to smuggle one or two home, but only a few tables away was a screaming Mingyu, his hand waving wildly in the air to signal them over, as if Wonwoo and him had suddenly gone both deaf and blind. But it was endearing, and Jisoo beamed as he grabbed Wonwoo’s hand and dragged him just a little bit faster.

“Hey man, you clean up nice!” And it was true. Mingyu stood tall in black dress pants, paired with a black dress top. Blue suspenders were slung over his broad shoulders, and between them sat the cutest matching bowtie Jisoo had ever seen. He wasn’t used to Mingyu looking so formal, but he most certainly  _ could _ get used to it.

“Are you… Are you wearing  _ one _ glove?” Wonwoo questioned with a hint of amusement as the three of them took their seats.

Mingyu held the gloved hand up proudly. “Isn’t it cool?”

“It reminds me of Michael Jackson,” Jisoo snickered, which left him on the receiving end of one very pointed glare.

“Well, joke’s on you, because that’s exactly what I was going for.”

“I’m just kidding. You look good.” Jisoo patted the blonde’s leg gently. “So where’s this open bar you promised?”

  
  
  
  
  


The event wasn’t nearly as bad as Jisoo had anticipated. A few boring guest speakers took their turn at the podium, but he just tuned them out with a little help from whiskey and Minghao, who mercifully texted him through the whole ordeal, until the speeches were finished and the awards were handed out. 

Mingyu had won his award, although that didn’t surprise Jisoo one bit. He had read his novel, and it was fascinating. Mingyu had a way with storytelling, he was witty and exciting. His worlds were so easy to get stuck in, and Jisoo didn’t even like fantasy novels.

He cheered appropriately between sips from his glass, and listened intently as Mingyu gave his acceptance speech. His heart swelled to twice it’s size when Mingyu mentioned Wonwoo for “always pushing me when I stall, and ordering pizza when my fingers are too numb to call them myself.” Yeah, that was definitely Jisoo’s favorite part, even if only for the deep red that crept onto Wonwoo’s face.

The rest of the night was just time spent with good people, and celebrations all around. Jisoo mostly spoke with Wonwoo, keeping themselves entertained as Mingyu spoke to person after person. He hadn’t realized that Mingyu knew so many people, and apparently neither did Wonwoo.

“I don’t even know who that is,” Wonwoo whispered, pointing across their own table to a tall dark haired woman dressed in a short red dress. Jisoo had been admiring her legs all night, but he truthfully had not one single clue who she was either.

“That’s my boss.”

Both Jisoo and Wonwoo startled, and turned to look between them where a smug Mingyu hovered. “Sorry boys, didn’t mean to interrupt. Jieun!” He hollered, standing straight and grinning. The woman also startled and clutched her glass a little tighter. Mingyu could maybe use a lesson on subtlety, but that would be for another day, Jisoo thought amusedly.

“Mr. Kim, I am far too young for a heart attack,” she scoffed. But the mildly offended look melted from her face within seconds and was replaced with a fond smile. “Congratulations! I knew you’d win. You had the other nominees shaking in their boots.”

Mingyu took his seat to Jisoo’s right and patted the seat next to him. The woman, Jieun, gracefully slid over to fill it, hauling her red wine in tow. “Thanks!” he started, before giving her a mock serious look, “and if I have to call you Jieun, you have to call me Mingyu. It’s weird if you don’t.”

She winked at him and took a sip from her glass, glancing over at Jisoo and Wonwoo, who had so far sat quietly and watched the interaction. She smiled sweetly, almost too sweetly in a way that had Jisoo vaguely wonder if he had to pull out his “GAY AF” nametag.

  
  
  
  


It was a little strange to be sitting in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people, but Jisoo was at least glad to have Wonwoo beside him, and everyone else at his fingertips. 

The night was officially well into the late hours, and Jisoo was well into nearing the double digits in drinks. He was pleasantly buzzed, his head swimming with happy thoughts and laughter rumbling in his chest. At some point they had acquired another person, who chatted excitedly with Wonwoo about… Well, he wasn’t sure to be honest. Jisoo was just there, laughing at the sound of the other man’s laugh and how loud Wonwoo was after a little bit of vodka hit his system.

And that would have been the highlight of his night, just pleasantly existing amongst a table full of cheer, had it not been for the hand that came to suddenly rest on his thigh beneath the table. He glanced down, then followed the arm to Mingyu (and wow, his head felt heavy as he did so), who hadn’t even turned to face him. His hand moved higher, massaging the soft flesh as it travelled. Jisoo froze, throwing glances around the table.

But nobody noticed.

Wonwoo was faced away from him, lost in his own conversation. Mingyu’s boss was focused on Mingyu, throwing her head back in laughter, and Mingyu… Mingyu was teasing. Jisoo narrowed his eyes at the back of the blonde’s head, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it on some level.

Or loving it when Mingyu’s hand reached jackpot and warmth instantly spread over him from head to toe.

Jisoo was a lot of things. Clumsy, intelligent, even funny when the situation called for it. But most importantly, and perhaps most prominent, was how easy he was with just the smallest amount of alcohol in his bloodstream.

And that bastard knew it.

He stood from the table, briefly debating if he should announce his departure, but he decided against it. The only head to look his way was Mingyu, who smirked like the devil that he is. Jisoo made a quick beeline for the restroom, exhaling a sigh of relief as the door swung shut behind him.

After a few minutes of quietly waiting, Jisoo thought maybe he had been wrong. He smiled awkwardly and waved at a stranger as he left the washroom, and Jisoo wondered how much of a creep he looked like, simply standing there idly at the entrance. He sighed, a little shook at how disappointed he was, and made for the door.

It swung open as he reached for it, Mingyu appearing and zoning in on him. And without hesitation, lips crashed into his and he stumbled back with the force, letting Mingyu wrap his arms around him for that precious bit of stability.

With an aggression that had Jisoo’s body flaring up with lust so fast he felt dizzy, Mingyu shoved them into the closest stall and fumbled with the lock behind him, not once letting their lips part, or their tongues rest.

He felt Mingyu’s rough hands pull the front of his shirt from his waist, and fingertips run up his chest. A quiet moan vibrated in his throat. 

Or was that his phone?

Maybe both.

He ignored it, his hands snaking up Mingyu’s clothed back and into the gelled blonde hair at the nape of his neck. But the buzzing continued. Yeah, definitely his phone.

Mingyu’s lip left his, not without hesitation, and he rested his forehead against Jisoo’s. “You need to get that?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket with a sigh as he read the caller ID. He wanted to say no, but it was Jeonghan. And Jeonghan was not a man you wanted to ignore. He pouted as he looked back up at Mingyu apologetically. “I’ll make it fast - Hello? Slow down, I don’t understand - Jeonghan. Jeonghan! What’s going on?”

His stomach dropped. 

“Shit. Hang on, I’m coming. Deep breaths, Jeonghan. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He hung up the phone, a hollowness growing in his chest. For the briefest of moments, he was glad to be in a bathroom stall, because his stomach churned with an unmistakable queasiness that threatened to spill up and out.

“What’s wrong?” Mingyu’s brows inched together as Jisoo put his palms to his face, taking a deep and shaky breath.

“Chan’s dead.” 


	2. Forever Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone's who's shown interest in this little story of mine! I promised a handy little chart, so [](http://tinypic.com?ref=r1nf2p)
> 
> This chart is rather important. Not everyone knows everyone, and this plays a key part in this whole thing. Keep in mind though, most of them do cross paths at one point or another. :) 
> 
> Solid line means they know one another, solid line with arrows means they are in a relationship. And that funky line between Vernkwan is... Well, you'll find out eventually. 
> 
> Onwards to chapter two!

**MONDAY FEBRUARY 15, 2016**

Chan’s feet hit the gravel in constant rhythm, his backpack bouncing against him with each step. Jeonghan's voice echoed in his head.  _ Home before 7. You have homework to do. I’m not raising a hoodlum. _

Truth was, he didn’t have any homework. He was a good student, a smart student, and he had finished everything in class with time to spare. Going home when Jeonghan requested was out of respect for a man who had given him his all.

Jeonghan was too good for this world, but that was an opinion Chan would take to his grave. Jeonghan liked to keep up a certain persona, and he respected that. He had just turned fifteen when Jeonghan took him in, offering a roof and a warm bed, and food in his belly when nobody else would. When his parents were too far gone.

  
  
  


_**TUESDAY FEBRUARY 25, 2014** _

_ “Hey kid, you look cold.” _

_ He was cold. The chill of February clung to his bones, the cold metal of the bench beneath him pierced his skin through the feeble layer of clothing. He smiled at the boy who had appeared in front of him, rubbing his hands together and blowing warm breath in the space between them. _

_ “I’m alright,” he lied. He wanted to be honest, but who was he to burden a stranger? _

_ The older boy slid onto the bench next to him, matching his pose and glancing upwards at the darkened sky above them. Chan wasn’t sure what time it was, but the day had dragged on for what felt like years, and he guessed it was late. _

_ “How old are you?” _

_ “I just turned fifteen. You?” _

_ “Nineteen, but a lot of people say I seem older.” He smiled fondly at Chan. “Where are your parents, kid?” _

_ Chan hesitated. Normally he wouldn’t dare tell a stranger about his life, or his former life now, he supposed. But there was something about the gentle smile of the young man, the warmth that radiated from him, it reminded him of the home he missed. The home he had when he was small. _

_ It felt right to open his mouth and speak, “Who knows. Probably dead in a ditch somewhere.” _

_ The words came out bitter and sad, and the smile instantly faded from the young man’s face. _

_ “Mom never did know where she was when the drugs hit, and Dad never came down. He’s been dead in a way, for years.” _

_ “Jesus, kid,” the older started, a sadness creeping into his voice. “Are you telling me you’re on your own out here?” _

_ “I guess so. It’s not so bad though. I spend most of my day at school, until they kick me out. The old lady at the cafe across the park lets me sit there until they close up. It’s honestly not that bad,” he spoke quickly. He felt bare and exposed suddenly, like he had said too much. _

_ Silence hung over them for a moment, and Chan held his breath. He didn’t know this man, and he couldn’t help but feel frightened at the idea of him reporting him. He didn’t want to go home. He couldn’t go home. _

_ “I’m Jeonghan. What’s your name?” _

_ “I-I’m Chan.” _

_ “Great. Let’s go Chan,” he said quietly, standing to his feet and extending a delicate hand. _

_ “What?” _

_ “You’re coming with me. My roommate and I have lots of room. You’ll love him.” _

_ Chan felt his heart tighten, like that soft hand in front of him just wrapped around it and gave a gentle squeeze. He wanted to go. He wanted to reach out and grab his hand without a second’s hesitation. He wanted a warm bed, and hot food. But his pride roared at him, quelling the excitement. _

_ “No, I couldn’t possibly do that. You don’t know me -” _

_ “Don’t be silly. You’re Chan. Now let’s go,” that kind smile was back, and he wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand, “You’re not dying out in the cold. Not on my watch.” _

  
  
  


**MONDAY FEBRUARY 15, 2016**

He smiled fondly at the memory, one he thought of often. Jeonghan and Seungcheol had never let him stray from that day on, and he finally remembered what it felt like to be a part of a family.

He had met Jihoon shortly after, and he had taken a particular liking to the shorter male. While Jeonghan and Seungcheol were protective and honestly, a little bit parental in the sweetest way possible, Jihoon was like the brother he never had. He liked the way Jihoon told him when he was being a brat, or the way he tossed him around the room despite being smaller.

When Jisoo appeared in their little family, everything was perfect. And it warmed his heart to see Jeonghan open up to somebody, something Chan had dwelled on from the moment he began to care for the older male.

So he picked up his pace, partly in determination to make it home on time, and partly because he hated this part of town. It was always too quiet, as if the world had already wilted away in that spot, despite the nearby traffic. The graffiti that adorned the alleyway was especially vulgar, so he ducked his head, pulling his phone from his pocket and focusing on that. He grinned when he saw the waiting message.

 

**Eunbin**

I had fun tonight! Next time you can pick the movie. Promise. 

_ 6:42pm _

 

“Who’s the lucky lady?” 

Chan gasped, his phone fumbling from his fingers and hitting the gravel at his feet. He cursed, something he really tried not to do on most occasions, and bent down to pick it up, but a hand was already lifting it and handing it over.

He took the phone, a 'thank you’ ready on his tongue, but he opted for a friendly “Oh, hello!” when he was met with a familiar face.

“I know you! You’re -”

“Yeah, how you been kid?”

Chan dusted off his phone, shoving it back into his pocket. He puffed a breath of air, watching it cloud in the chilled atmosphere. “I’ve been alright. Doing really well in school, Seungcheol’s been saving his tips for over a year now apparently. They say they can probably send me to University with a couple more months of saving,” he started, but the man just stared. “I’m sorry, that’s kind of boring, isn’t it? What about you? How’s -”

“Who is she?”

Chan was a little taken back at the interruption, closing his mouth shut with haste and furrowing his brows together. “Who?”

“The girl you were messaging. That was quite the smitten grin.” The man gestured at his pocket.

“Oh! Her name is Eunbin,” he chirped, reaching back into his pocket to pull out his phone.

And maybe if he had been paying attention, he would have seen the man reach into his own pocket. And maybe he could have tried to run. But Chan grinned down at his phone instead, oblivious.

“Does she love you?”

Chan scrunched up his nose, feeling a little embarrassed at the question, as he flipped through his pictures. “I think so. She hasn’t told me yet, but I think she wants to.”

“She should have been faster.”

“What?”

He heard the click before he raised his head, his eyes meeting the barrel of a gun instead of the familiar eyes he had expected. The cold metal pushed into his forehead and his entire body froze as his mind desperately tried to catch up.

“Woah, d-don’t. Please,” Chan plead as his phone clattered to the ground and he raised his hands beside his head. He wasn’t sure what else to do.

The man in front of him, the person holding the weapon to his head, tilted his gaze and eyed Chan carefully. “I have to.”

Chan’s heart raced at an impossible speed and he felt a tremble spread through his limbs. He closed his eyes and he pictured Jeonghan, probably finishing up dinner as he waited for him to return home. When he spoke, it was nothing more than a whisper.

“No, please, I said I’d be home by-”

He never got to finish his last words. The shot rang out, echoing off the surrounding buildings, and he hit the ground, forever seventeen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE WHAT I DID THERE?! 
> 
> Heh. 
> 
> I'm sorry. 
> 
> Please leave feedback if you can! It keeps me motivated to do better. <3 
> 
> And hey, I'd love to start hearing some early guesses ;) 
> 
> COME HOLLA AT ME ON [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/44caliberr)


	3. Knock, Knock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this took me so long to post. I had it written and everything, just being a general piece of garbage lately. 
> 
> This chapter we get to meet another one of the boys! And so far, he's my favorite. 
> 
> So here we go...
> 
> And I apologize in advance.

**MONDAY FEBRUARY 15, 2016**

 Jisoo was no stranger to sadness, but there was no amount of life experience to prepare him for the look on Jeonghan’s face when he stepped from his car and met his friend’s gaze. He was a mess, and that was being kind.

Jisoo strode across the street, the police lights flashing violently in the dark around him. As he walked, he realized with a very sickening drop of his stomach that this was the crime scene he and Wonwoo had seen earlier in the evening.

Jeonghan made no effort to move or meet him, he stood frozen in place, horror etched into his features.  

“Jisoo, I-” he started, his eyes wide as he shook his head in small bursts, unable to finish as his jaw hung agape. Jisoo wasted no time in pulling his friend into his arms, and it was then that he broke.

Jisoo could feel Jeonghan shake in his arms, the wrenching sobs drowned in the thin fabric of his shirt. His heart broke at the sound, gentle hands tucking the broken man’s head further into his embrace. He wanted to say something, anything to comfort him, but he was smart enough to know there were no words in existence.

  
  


_**WEDNESDAY SEPTEMBER 16, 2015** _

  _“You’re good for him, you know?”_

_Jisoo looked at Chan over the DVD case he had been mindlessly skimming. “What?”_

_“Jeonghan. You’re good for him. He needed a friend like you,” repeated Chan, and for a moment Jisoo thought Chan was pulling his leg, so he started to laugh. Until he saw the serious look on Chan’s face and he abruptly stopped, clearing his throat._

_“Really? What about Seungcheol? I thought…”_

_“It’s not really my place to say, but between you and I, they’re destined to rule the world together,” he started, “but Seungcheol never really could soothe him when he gets hysterical. You’re good at it. He’s happier, I can tell.”_

_At this, Jisoo smiled. He glanced towards the kitchen where he could hear the distant noises of pots and pans, and maybe even a few curses._

_“Thanks, kid. He’s a good guy, and I’m happy to be his friend. He’s proud of you, too. You should hear him talk about you at work to all his customers. He tells everyone you’re his-”_

_“His_ baby _. Yeah, I know,” Chan finishes with a laugh, and a hint of a grimace. “Pretty sure he’ll still call me that when I’m, like, 30.”_

  
  


**MONDAY FEBRUARY 15, 2016**

  
“They shot him between the eyes, Jisoo. A kid.”

Jisoo’s heart clenched impossibly tighter and the air was knocked from his lungs. Chan was a good teenager, and a remarkable friend, and the thought of the young boy’s fate was almost too unreal.

“They made me identify his body.”

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered weakly into the top of Jeonghan’s head, letting his eyes fall shut as his mind work overtime to wake up, as if he had plunged into some horrible nightmare. He suspected Jeonghan felt the same.

But there’s no waking up.

There’s only a dull ache and the sting of tears in his eyes. There’s only flashing red and blue lights, and an aura of dread spread across the intermediate area. There is only the loss of a child.

Seungcheol’s footsteps are heavy as he saunters over, an officer in tow. Seungcheol’s eyes are dampened, and it occurs to Jisoo that this is the first time he’s seen him cry. He offers a apologetic glance as the two men approach, Jeonghan still tucked and shaking in his embrace.

“My name’s Detective Galen,” the officer starts, “This young man here,” he gestures towards Seungcheol, who’s eyes are glazed over and unfocused, “has told me everything I need to know about the deceased’s living situation. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Jeonghan doesn’t budge, but Jisoo gives Detective Galen a curt nod on his behalf.

“He sounds like an alright kid, would you mind answering a few questions?” After a moment’s hesitation, Jeonghan nods, untangling himself from Jisoo’s arms and turning to face the solemn detective. “Would you prefer to do it here or would you like to come down to the station? It's quieter there.”

Jeonghan shook his head.

Jisoo stood next to Jeonghan, fingers laced with his friend’s, and squeezed gently whenever Chan’s name surfaced and he felt the older tense in his hold. He listened as Jeonghan’s scratchy voice repeats over and over that Chan had no enemies and would never hurt a soul. And Jisoo knew he was right.

Whatever happened on that chilled February night was nothing more than unprovoked murder. A clean, deliberate shot that would leave the young boy’s blood penetrating the earth.

He listened as Detective Galen promised to work their hardest to solve the case, and he hoped it was true. With every fibre in his being, he prayed that Chan’s death wouldn’t linger in the unknown. He deserved better.

Jisoo’s hands gripped the steering wheel as they drove to Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s apartment in silence. They had brought their own vehicle, but neither were in a state to drive.

Jisoo was only going to lose one friend tonight.

The only words to leave Jeonghan’s lips as they drove came out in a whisper.

“I didn’t save him.”

 

  


**FRIDAY FEBRUARY 19, 2016**

 Hansol whined.

Hansol whined, and Wonwoo groaned.

“I swear, if this is about _him_ again, I’m just going to shove the two of you in a room and lock the door. Nobody’s allowed out until you’ve at least confessed.”

Hansol's glare looked a little misplaced as he continued scratching behind the floppy ears of the oversized puppy in his lap.

“What do you know? You get to jump the bones of _your_ crush -”

“Mingyu is not my crush,” Wonwoo deadpanned.

“Alright, fine. You get to jump the bones of your _whatever_ whenever you want without having to gush all your disgusting feelings. Your opinion is so fucking invalid,” snapped Hansol as he bent down with a scrunched nose to nuzzle at the caramel fur of the puppy slept in his lap.

“Just talk to him. Go join one of Soonyoung’s dance classes. Easy. He’ll see you grinding like a pornstar and then you’ll be good to go.” 

“And then what? Just casually be like ‘hey, wanna go out with this ass’?”

“I don’t know, don’t ask me. I get to jump my Mingyu whenever I want,” repeated Wonwoo with a wink as he stood, scooping the puppy from his own lap and into his arms. It squirmed in his hold, reaching with a wet tongue to lick the underside of his chin. He chuckled at the creature while Hansol sighed heavily.

“You’re overthinking it. You’re a handsome dude, and you work with fucking puppies.” Wonwoo gestured at the fluffy thing in his arms. “That’s a huge hit with softies.”

“Yeah?” Hansol peered up at Wonwoo with the smallest of a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Definitely. And Boo Seungkwan is definitely a softie.”

“You think?”

“The first time I met him, he cried because he spilled my beer. I have never in my life heard someone apologize that many times in under a minute.”

Hansol grinned, all teeth and his eyes disappeared happily into his smile. “See? He’s fucking adorable.”

Ah, young love. He could see it in Hansol’s eyes, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make the corner of his mouth tug into a half-hearted smile. Love was a tricky thing, but it looked good on Hansol.

Wonwoo never thought Hansol to be a grumpy or unhappy person by any means, but there was an extra pep in his step, a little more genuine to his laugh, and that extra bit of wonder that painted his face as he’d lose focus when he thought nobody was watching.

“Alright, get up. Playtime’s over. We need to scrub these kennels down. I have a funeral to attend,” Wonwoo mumbled, placing the puppy back into it’s respective kennel.

“Oh, right. I heard about that. Sorry to hear, man.” Hansol stood, clasping a hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know the kid very well, but Jisoo did. He’s pretty shook up. Says he was a real straight kid,” said Wonwoo as he rummaged through the cupboard.

“Think they’ll catch the guy?”

Wonwoo had been asked this question many times over the past several days, and his stomach dropped every time, an uneasy feeling blooming inside and spreading like a plague.

He turned to face Hansol.

“Maybe.”

  
  


_________

  
  


Jeonghan was livid and that was the understatement of the year. Jisoo could see the flare of rage in his eyes as he backed Seungcheol into a corner, only mere minutes after the funeral had ended. He dodged  condolences and waved off apologies, pushing a single digit into the middle of Seungcheol’s chest.

“Where the hell is that recluse of a friend of yours? Hmmm? Was Chan not good enough for him? Are _we_ not good enough for him anymore?”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Jisoo spoke softly, reaching out a gentle hand to wrap around Jeonghan’s, dragging his accusing finger away from Seungcheol who stood wide-eyed. Jisoo knew Jeonghan had a bit of a temper, but now was definitely not the time.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve been trying to call him for days. He isn’t picking up. You know how Jihoon is-”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass if he’s got problems! Everybody here just said goodbye to their dead friend, and he couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the damn phone,” Jeonghan sniffled, angrily wiping the escaped tears with his sleeve. “The least he could do is say goodbye,” he whispered. Jisoo tugged on his hand and guided him to sit on the wooden bench next to him near the front entrance of the funeral home. He felt bad for Jeonghan, he really did. His heart ached. It ached for his loss, it ached for Chan, but it mostly ached for Jeonghan.

“I know. I know, don’t be upset. I’ll go stop by his place, force his ass out the door if I have to. I’ll make sure he comes to dinner tonight. He’s probably just upset.” Seungcheol frowned and placed his hands in his pockets. 

“Does he even know? If he hasn’t been answering his phone?”

“He’d have to be leaving his messages unread to not know. I’ve sent him at least twenty.”

“Me too,” Jisoo nodded. Come to think of it, Jihoon hadn’t answered him either.

He couldn’t help but share Jeonghan’s annoyance with the situation. Jisoo knew all about Jihoon’s struggle with anxiety. And it’s true, he imagined the news was hard on Jihoon. But it was hard on them all, and everyone else was here to pay their respects to the young soul that never failed to bring a smile to their faces, Jihoon’s included.

“I’ll come with you,” he said suddenly, standing to his feet and peering down at Jeonghan. Jeonghan smiled thankfully at him.

Jisoo wasn’t exactly in the brightest mood, and the prospect of taking the lead in a situation regarding someone he wasn’t entirely close with was a little daunting. Jeonghan, and Seungcheol especially, were much closer with man in question. But both men looked tired, and worn. And Jisoo couldn’t blame them.

The sadness hung over them all like a raincloud, drizzling droplets of despair as they tried to maneuver through the day.

He smiled back at Jeonghan, small and reassuring.

"You’ll be okay with Wonwoo right?” Wonwoo grinned at Jeonghan as he nodded.

“And what about me? Am I chopped liver?”

Mingyu, who had been, up until this point, standing quietly and fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket, looked mildly offended. Jisoo managed a chuckle, despite the circumstances. Mingyu was, without a doubt, nothing but an overgrown adorable child in the streets, and a monster in the sheets. The contrast was endearing, and it was Jisoo’s favorite thing about him.

“You’re coming with us. Gonna need you to sling that midget over your shoulder if we need to use force.”

“Manhandling? Count me in.”

  
  


Seungcheol wasted no time in knocking when they strode up the front path of Jihoon’s character home. (“ _It’s tiny like you_!” was something Jihoon surely heard often). He knocked once, twice, and a much harder and louder third time. Jisoo fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket, absent-mindedly waited.

“Open the door, asshole! You missed Chan’s funeral and Jeonghan is pissed!” He hollered, his fist banging on the white wooden door a few more times for good measure.

Seungcheol huffed, his shoulders slumping in defeat and mumbling _goddamn hermit_ under his breath. Jisoo chuckled slightly, his gaze trailing up and over the soft cream siding of the house.

Seungcheol looked over his shoulder at Jisoo and Mingyu, nodding once. “We’re going in, boys.”

Seungcheol’s hand wrapped around the knob, twisting quickly and pushing the door open with force. Unlocked.

The smell hit them like a freight train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .__. Im so sorry
> 
> Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Im really unsure of how this is going. 
> 
> <3
> 
> Come visit/yell at me/be my frand on [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/44caliberr)


	4. One Week Ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm total garbage at updating. I apologize lmao. "Expect regular updates" she says as she proceeds to fail miserably. 
> 
> Anyways... Um... I'm really sorry. Please know that I love Jihoon deeply. He was my original bias before Jisoo came barging in like HE HAD ANY FACKING RIGHT and well. Yknow. 
> 
> Anyways... Onwards... Im sorry.

**FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2016**

 

Mingyu instantly reeled back from the door, stumbling back down the front steps and landing knees first into the snow dusted lawn, lurching forward and emptying his stomach contents into the white expanse. 

Alarms rang in Jisoo’s head, loud and positively deafening.  _ Don’t go in there. Don’t go in there. _

“Jesus fuck,” Seungcheol cursed, covering nose and mouth with his hand, much like Jisoo, and pushing the door open a little further. A sob ripped through his throat, anguished and fearful, and not one of them were stupid. What lied beyond the door was to be no surprise.

Jisoo’s mind hazed over, the cold reality around him dissipating and everything felt slow and lethargic. He felt the familiar tug of sickness, and he turned to walk away, like any sane person would. The sickness burned up his throat and threatened him.

But Seungcheol was pushing the door open wider, and his feet moved to take him inside. Jisoo’s free hand shot out, and he looked at that hand like it wasn’t his own, and spoke in a voice he barely registered belonged to him, “Don’t go in there.”

His words sounded distant in his own head, and he swallowed hard to remain focused. Grounded. His entire being threatened to hit the ground, or black out completely, but he clung to the edge.

“He’s my best friend.”

And there was no mistaking the fear in Seungcheol’s voice.

  
  


_______

 

 

_**FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 2017** _

 

_ Parties. Not his thing.  _

_ Loud. Obnoxious. Lengthy. Didn’t anybody value sleep these days? _

_ “To Chan!” _

_ Jihoon was abruptly ripped from his thoughts by a particularly loud Seungcheol who held a glass of - what was that, white wine? - in the air. Everyone around the room echoed his sentiments, and downed their glass. _

_ “You guys suck,” said Chan, a frown forming on his face as he looked down at his nearly-empty glass of juice. Jihoon looked down at his own, the gentle smell of raspberries raising to his nostrils. _

_ He thought the juice was just fine, thank you very much. _

_ He winked at Chan, who had looked his way for some sort of back up on the situation. “We don’t need alcohol to have fun! Plus, this shit is like liquid crack,” he commented, bringing his glass to his lips and sipping. _

_ “Right. Because you’re so much fun. The life of the party, right?” _

_ Jisoo, that shit disturber. _

_ “I’ll have you know, I’m plenty fun.” _

_ “So you’re saying you never sit in a corner all by yourself?” _

_ “Never.” _

_ Jisoo gestured at him, a hidden smile playing on his lips, and for the smallest of moments Jihoon wasn’t entirely sure what he was getting at. But - ah, okay. _

_ Because he was indeed sitting in the corner, back against both walls right where they meet, and there was indeed at least four feet of space on either side of him, which was much more space than existed between anybody else in the room. _

_ He met Jisoo’s amused and twinkling gaze, and for a beat, everyone was quiet. _

_ And then he was laughing, and the room followed suit. Jihoon could feel the laughing fit take over, howling his stress right out of his body as his sides began to hurt and tears formed at the corners of his eyes. _

_ Parties. Not his thing. _

_ His friends? His everything. _

  
  


_______

  
  
  


“Seungcheol, no!” 

It was no use. Jisoo’s hand fell short and back down to his side, and Seungcheol was stepping through the threshold. He closed his eyes, willing away the stench and the rising bile, and he stepped in after him. Like the world’s greatest fool.

Everything felt wrong. The air felt wrong, the quiet felt wrong, the way his insides twisted and turned as he put one foot in front of the other felt wrong. The intensity of the aura that settled over the house was screaming at Jisoo to turn around and go home. But he was on a sort of autopilot now, shoving the sorrow that clung to his skin like rain to the back of his mind as he followed Seungcheol through the house. There was no other choice.

Deep down, he knew there was no argument over what he would find. The near future was unmistakable, images swirling in his brain, flashes of what he’s likely to find. His heart hurt more than he could form into words as he wandered deeper into Jihoon’s home.

The hall was pristine, and everything was in its place. The walls were the same shade of washed out blue they always were and each frame on the wall hung without the slightest hint of imperfection.

As if to say,  _ there’s no dead body here. _

As if there was any way to conceal the decaying body laying belly up on the kitchen floor.

As if there was any way to ignore the wail of sorrow that echoed through the house as Seungcheol hit the floor and pushed himself as far away as he could get.

As if there was any way to get rid of the image of Jihoon’s corpse, swollen and discolored,  laying in a small pool of his own dried blood.

  
  
  


_______

  
  
  


_ He was officially exhausted. Despite his feelings towards large social gatherings, Jihoon enjoyed himself. It was a good night, and he couldn’t deny that. His cheeks ached from smiling and there was a pleasant thumping in his chest that reminded him he loved, and was loved.  _

_ Sometimes it was easy for Jihoon to forget those two things. _

_ He wrapped his arms around Chan, ignoring the annoying fact the teen was steadily growing taller than him. “Happy birthday, kid.” _

_ “Where the hell is my hug?” _

_ He turned to face a frowning Seungcheol. _

_ “Thirteen years of friendship isn’t enough? Now you need hugs?” He asked, but he smiled nonetheless as Seungcheol engulfed him into his arms. He felt a little smothered, but Seungcheol was always his breath of fresh air, even if he was cutting off his air entirely. He let himself briefly sink into the radiating comfort. But only briefly. _

_ “Alright, alright, let me go,” he laughed, slipping out of Seungcheol’s grasp with enough ease. But he secretly missed the warm embrace. “I’m going home to get some sleep, something you heathens should seriously consider.” _

_ “Whatever, old man. Bring us breakfast in the morning?” Jeonghan beamed at him. _

_ “Fat chance,” he mumbled. “Anyways, I had fun - and hey, it was really nice to meet you…” He trailed off, facing the man sitting squished between Mingyu and Jisoo with an apologetic smile. The man, who was strikingly and frustratingly handsome, brightened at being addressed. _

_ “Junhui! But Jun is fine,” he held out a hand, which Jihoon shook happily. “It was nice to meet you too!” _

_ He felt a small spread of warmth at the prospect of making a new friend. It was a small feat for most, but felt like such a large victory to Jihoon. _

_ “Bring him around more, yeah?” He spoke to Jisoo, who seemed delighted. _

_ “Awe, is somebody smitten?” Jisoo joked, nudging Jihoon’s foot with his. Jihoon faked offense, clutching his chest and scoffing. _

_ “And cheat on you? Never.” He winked at Jisoo and off he went. _

_ He left Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s apartment, a silent laugh lingering in his throat, the sounds of friendly murmurs dying off as the door shut behind him. _

_ The taxi ride was painfully slow, but he arrived at home nonetheless. He had his shoes off before the door closed, and he made a quick beeline for the kitchen, throwing open the door to the refrigerator and poking his head inside. _

_ Leftovers, leftovers, leftovers. _

_ Leftovers, it is. _

_ He snatched a mystery container from the top shelf, lingering a brief moment longer in the cool air, before shutting the appliance and tossing the food on a plate. _

_ He idly watched it spin in the microwave, his mind wandering as it usually does. From television to family, his mind was always mulling over something. _

_ In the midst of all the quiet chaos, he heard - or at least he thought he heard - a faint click. He perked up, straining his hearing over the quiet humming of the microwave. _

_ Nothing. _

_ He slumped back over the counter, resuming his previous engagement of wasting away in front of his heating dinner. He watched the clock count down the seconds, and was very aware of how lame he must be to be so excited for the inevitable beep. _

_ “Ten, nine, eight, hurry, six, five…” _

_ He clapped his hands on four. _

_ “Three, I’m hungry, one!” _

_ Beep! _

_ He stood straight, wiggling about like a child, and reached for the microwave door. Fingers just grazed the handle, a lazy reach, but never grasped. _

_ The first blow spread through his skull with a blinding rage of pain. _

_ The second blow came so fast after the first, he barely had time to register what was happening. _

_ And with the third blow, without time to even scream, his body crumpled, folding in on itself, and he landed on the kitchen tile, and everything faded. Everything faded to a pitch black, where no thoughts roamed, and no life lingered. The hot trickle of blood running down from the wound nothing more than someone else’s memory. _

_ The intruder stood behind him, chest heaving slightly, dark crimson staining the hammer in his grasp. _

  
  


_ _______ _

  
  


**TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2016**

 

For somebody who had so many loved ones gathered in one place to mourn his passing, Jisoo was saddened that Jihoon ever felt lonely. Saddened, but not surprised. From the day he met Jihoon, he could tell he was broken deep down somewhere that nobody could really reach. Seungcheol seemed to be the closest thing to a healer that Jihoon had ever known. 

So there was a particular ache in his heart as he watched Seungcheol struggle to form the words Jisoo knew he never thought he would have to say.

“Knowing Jihoon for over half my life, I feel privileged. He was a smart friend, a dear friend, and I can’t think of a time he was never there for me. Judging by the amount of people here today, I think it’s safe to say he was that rock for a lot of people.

When we were eleven years old, we wandered off to a part of town outside our given limits. My idea, of course. He was so against it, and he tried to stop me. But I was young, determined, and they sold the best ice cream on that side of town, so I went. And he came with me. Because he didn’t want me to go alone. This is how our friendship always was. This is how Jihoon was. There aren’t enough words in existence to explain how much I’m going to miss him. I miss my brother.”

Jisoo’s heart squeezed in his chest and he gripped Mingyu’s hand a little tighter. Mingyu’s own comfort wrapped around Jisoo like the softest blanket, and he laid his head upon the taller man’s shoulder, wishing he were anywhere else.

But he had Mingyu and Wonwoo to carry him through the sadness, the stress, the horror of his reality. Of all the things the three of them considered one another, they were first and foremost friends. That was something Jisoo was eternally grateful for in that moment, and all throughout the day, to the very end when the three of them laid comfortably in bed, albeit a bit squished.

“Jeonghan’s having a hard time,” Jisoo muttered, carding his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair while the man’s head laid lightly tucked against his chest. Wonwoo sighed, a sad noise between them.

“I liked Jihoon. I know Mingyu and I didn’t know him as well as you did, but he was a nice guy. I’m sorry,” mumbled Wonwoo, his eyes still shut as the words eased from between his lips.

“I just don’t understand. What are the chances, you know? Two people I know murdered in the same week. How does that happen?”

There’s a certain despair that lingered in his words, and he knew Wonwoo heard them if him clinging closer to Jisoo was any indication. He ran a soft hand along Jisoo’s bare chest, not in a way that seemed sexual or seductive, but in a reassuring stroke of affection. Jisoo always did adore Wonwoo’s affectionate side.

It’s then that Mingyu turned over, pushed his chest to Jisoo’s back and let a lazy arm drape over Jisoo’s side. His hand found Wonwoo’s, gently placed over it, and he joined the soothing motion, and Jisoo’s heart soared.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled sleepily, followed by a particularly wide yawn.

Jisoo turned to face Mingyu, a small smile on his lips, and he would have been a fool to not catch the heated gaze Mingyu was giving him as his hand left Wonwoo’s and petted down the lower part of Jisoo’s bare stomach. He hummed quietly, matching Mingyu’s pointed stare.

“Let us take care of you tonight.”

Jisoo always did adore Mingyu’s affectionate side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY. 
> 
> To anyone whos confused, although we read about Chans death first, it was Jihoon we lost first. Jihoon is our first victim in this whole mess of whatever. 
> 
> As always, Id love to hear some guesses. Thats my favorite part. ;)
> 
> Come visit me and be my frand on [TWITTER!](http://twitter.com/44caliberr)

**Author's Note:**

> And we're off! 
> 
> Don't worry, this isn't the last we see of Chan! 
> 
> Please tell me what you think, I'd love to hear from you! Reviews keep me going! 
> 
> I've currently got 4 chapters done, so you can expect weekly routine updates up to that point!


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